Eternal Alliance
by BronteLover
Summary: For centuries the vampires and skinwalkers had been mortal enemies, forever parted by a betrayal which neither could forget. Their war had been truly great and gruesome once, but now it was far less dire. They rarely sought conflict with one another anymore, neither trespassing upon the others' land. There had been enough death, and at one point it had seemed that both had been des
1. Chapter 1

**_Note:_****This is my first fully AU Supernatural fanfiction, so I hope it isn't too awful. Thanks for reading.**

* * *

**Chapter One:** **An Unlikely Alliance**

For centuries the vampires and skinwalkers had been mortal enemies, forever parted by a betrayal which neither could forget. Their war had been truly great and gruesome once, but now it was far less dire. They rarely sought conflict with one another anymore, neither trespassing upon the others' land. There had been enough death, and at one point it had seemed that both had been destined for self-imposed extinction.

This lull in animosity did not mean friendship, however, simply a necessity to cease constant conflict in order to achieve survival. Now there was a need for a true alliance, if survival was to be maintained. Both species faced a terrible threat, one far greater than vampire had been to skinwalker, and skinwalker to vampire

* * *

Michael, Prince of Hell, sat atop his stead and watched the human village be consumed by flames. The night sky was lit up with oranges and reds, intermingled with dancing smoke and the burning stars. He closed his eyes and listened to the screams that echoed through the air. It sounded like a sweet melody, filling his body with heat and power.

He nudged his raven stead, Styx, in the side so that the horse trotted down into the village. Michael wanted to be surrounded by the destruction, not simply observe it from afar. As he entered the blazing village he felt the heat wrap around him. If he had been human he would have begun to sweat, but seen as he was an Angel of Hell, he did not react to the sudden temperature increase.

He watched with detached interest as his troops raped and slaughtered the villagers, women screaming in agony as they were taken on the ground, and men gurgling on their own blood as their throats were ripped out. Styx continued his steady trot through the village, occasionally neighing in pleasure at what he and his Master were witnessing. He stilled when a young woman with long golden hair threw herself at his hooves, and begged his Master to save her from an agonising death. Michael simply cocked his head to the side and watched in mild pleasure as she was dragged away and brutally defiled and murdered by several of his soldiers.

He patted Styx's smooth head and said, "We have made good progress, Styx. Let us rest for a while."

* * *

Castiel Anastasii Novak was two thousand years old. He had been born a vampire when men still wore animal skins and painted pictures of hunting wild, furry beasts. His birth into the twilight of immortality had grown dim inside of his endless memories, but when he dreamed, which vampires did, he remembered a beautiful, dark haired woman singing to him on the floor of a cave, with snow swirling and wind howling outside. He supposed that she had been his mother, but he could not remember her, as she had left before he reached maturity.

Despite his extreme age, he was not, surprisingly, the oldest vampire who had ever lived. Not by several thousand years, although they did not dare speak of who the father of their race had been. His betrayal was far too great to recount.

In his two thousand years as leader of the vampire tribe, he had never imagined that they would face a greater enemy than the mysterious skinwalkers. Perhaps this rigid way of thinking had been unwise. He had to admit that it had been _very _short-sighted, indeed. But now he had to make the most of his rather undesirable situation, because although he had lived for two millennia, he most certainly had no intention of dying.

"Brother," came his younger sibling's soft voice, rousing him from his thoughts.

He looked up to meet Samandriel's patient gaze, and he smiled, despite the strain that was evident on his face.

"Yes dearest one?" he asked.

Samandriel blushed slightly and entered the room further before he paused for a moment, and then finally joined Castiel beside the fire.

"I must admit that I am…_nervous, _Castiel," he murmured, staring at the dancing flames.

"Nervous?" Castiel repeated. "Why are you nervous, Samandriel?"

His brother finally met his gaze once more, "I know how important it is that I make my new partner happy, and do not want to make a mistake that would jeopardise the alliance."

Castiel smiled slightly, taking Samandriel's soft hand in his, "I can sympathise. We have not yet met those who we are to wed, which makes it even more frightening than if we had known our partners for an age. Let us take comfort, however, in the fact that Michel would never have negotiated an alliance with the skinwalkers if it meant that we would be put in harm's way."

Samandriel nodded, and replied, "I know, brother. You and Michel are both much wiser than I, and that is why it is not your or his capabilities and judgment which I question, but my own."

Castiel squeezed his hand reassuringly, "I do not think that it is possible for someone not to love you. You are the kindest and most loving soul that I have ever encountered. I am very confident that you will make your betrothed extremely content."

"I have heard talk of him, you know," Samandriel admitted barely above a whisper. "They say that he is very fierce and handsome. Many of the female vampires, despite our long feud with the skinwalkers, envy me for the fact that I am to wed one who is so… _virile _and striking."

Castiel observed with affection the way his brother's blush increased at the use of the word virile, he was a virgin after all.

"Then you should be content with the fact that you shall be joined with one who is capable of such a reputation," he laughed softly. "I have not heard of my intended, but if his brother has such a character, then I do not doubt that he has one that is equally satisfying."

"I have heard of your intended as well," Samandriel replied shyly.

"The women are gossiping quite a lot lately then," Castiel re-joined, quirking a brow. "You might as well put me out of my misery and let me know the worst of it."

"His reputation is even fiercer than that of his brother. They say that he killed many in the wars against our kind, and that he has had many lovers, none of which have satisfied him," Samandriel's blush somehow increasedat this.

"He must be very handsome then," Castiel mused.

Samandriel nodded once more, "They say that he is beautiful in both animal and human form. One of the woman told me that his eyes are like the forest in the summer."

Castiel made an impressed sound, "Let us hope that both our intendeds live up to their glorious reputations. Now I think it is time for you to go to bed, dearest. I do not wish for you to be overtired when we enter skinwalker territory tomorrow."

"Yes, Castiel," Samandriel said, as he rose from his seat and lightly kissed Castiel on the cheek. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Castiel replied, letting go of his brother's hand.

When Samandriel had left, he allowed himself to frown at all that his brother had just told him. Michel had informed him about who their intended were, but he had not bothered to intone any details which he had obviously deemed unnecessary in their current situation. This was not to be a love match after all, but an alliance to guarantee the survival of both species.

Despite this very logical reasoning, Castiel could not entirely rid himself of the small feeling of hope that he felt that his betrothed would partially live up to what Samandriel had told him.

* * *

"Dean?" Sam said, as he entered the clearing that his brother stood in. "Why are you out here?"

Dean turned around and smiled slightly, "I'm star gazing."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Somehow I think that is an obvious lie. You're thinking about our meeting with our intendeds tomorrow."

Dean shrugged, "Perhaps. It is rather strange to think that we will be mated to strangers, and not only that, but _vampires. _They have been our enemies for so long I cannot remember a time before it."

Sam nodded, "I know, Dean, and I feel uncertain, too, but we must make sacrifices if we are to ensure the survival of our kind."

"I am aware of that, Sammy," Dean replied, sighing and running his hand through his hair.

"It's Sam," his brother said, rather haughtily, but then his tone softened. "I must admit that I feel more than simply uncertain. I have heard of my betrothed, however."

Dean frowned, "Really? From who?"

"Jo and Charlie were talking about he and his brother," Sam confessed. "They say that he is very pure. That he has never been with anyone in an intimate way before. They say that his brothers are very protective of him, because of his very trusting and generous nature."

"You should feel reassured by that," Dean smiled. "I think that he sounds very well suited to you."

Sam blushed, "Do you really think so? I feel like I am not worthy of someone who has earned himself such high praise for his conduct, that even his enemies do not speak ill of him."

"Don't be ridiculous, Sam. You've never been intimate with anyone unless you felt a real connection to them, unlike me, who is content with a warm body for the night."

"Dean, do not be so unforgiving of yourself. I know that it has not been without great personal strain for you to take over the leadership of our clan since father died."

Dean absently patted his brother's shoulder, "Thank you for that. I can always depend on you to forgive me for all my sins."

Sam lightly squeezed Dean's arm in return before he spoke, "I have heard of your intended, too. Would you like to hear of him?"

Dean gazed at the moon, silver and distant in the night sky, before he nodded.

"They say that he is a very old vampire, about two thousand years old. He has seen many changes in our land, and that he is a direct descendent of the one who started their species, and whom they do not speak. They also say that he is extremely handsome, like the princes in the distant land where it snows for much of the year. His eyes are like mirrors of the winter sky. He is also very private, and that he has not had many lovers in his lifetime. His most recent having died in the last wars between our kinds."

Dean sighed, "I suppose he sounds rather impressive. I find now that I feel more apprehensive. I still cannot fully accept that I have promised myself to our enemy."

"His kind are not really our enemy any more, Dean," Sam observed quietly. "Afterall the enemy of my enemy is my-"

"Friend," Dean interjected, turning away. "I think that you should go back to the clan now, Sam. I want to run alone for a while."

Sam wanted to tell him that he would come with him, but then he thought better of it, "Yes, Dean. I will see you in the morning. Goodnight."

Sam turned away and made his way back to the others.

Dean took a deep breath of the night air before he shifted into his true form and took off into the forest, his thoughts filled with images of a fair skinned prince with diamond like blue eyes.

* * *

_**Note:**_**The function of this first chapter is to introduce the characters and the setting for the story. I'm not entirely sure how long this work will be, but I think that I will just let it take me to its natural end. Thanks again for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two****: **Meetings

When the sun rose, golden and burning in the dark blue sky, Castiel went to the window of his room, and looked at land on the horizon. He, Samandriel and Michel would journey to that distant land today. Castiel had not journeyed there in many years, not since the last bloody battles of the war had been fought. Those memories were filled with ghosts now, a ghost that he had loved, that he had wanted to be with until the sun collapsed in on itself and the moon crumbled. That was all gone now, and he had to think of his intended, the green eyed skinwalker.

He sighed softly before he went to the basin in the corner of the room, and filled it with water so he could wash himself. There was no mirror on the wall because he possessed no reflection, he had never possessed one. The only reason he knew what he looked like was because his father had commissioned a painting of him when he came of age. He had stopped aging when he turned twenty five, as all vampires did.

When he was finished washing, he got dressed in black trousers, a white shirt and midnight blue velvet knee length coat. He raked his fingers through his perpetually unruly hair, and then went to Samandriel's room to make sure his brother was awake. When he entered, he found Samandriel dressed much the same as himself, but Samandriel's coat was burgundy.

"Are you ready to leave, brother?" he smiled, extending his hand towards Samandriel.

He nodded and smiled slightly before taking Castiel's hand and letting himself be led from his room.

Michel waited for them in the foyer, his pale eyes followed he and Samandriel as they descended the stairs.

"Good morning, brother," Castiel smiled. "Let us be on our way."

"Very good, brother," Michel replied with a slight curve of his lips.

The day was warm as they sprinted through the forest, expertly dodging tree branches and leaping over the gurgling stream that acted as the limit between their and the skinwalkers' territories. As his feet hit the ground, Castiel felt déjà vu rush up to meet him. He remembered fighting on this ground, blood making the now clear stream crimson, as bodies of both vampire and skinwalker floated downstream. His skin crawled at the memory of such death.

"Brother?" Samandriel said curiously, as he and Michel waited for Castiel.

Castiel turned to them and shook his head, "I am fine. Just memories. Let us carry on."

The sun rose higher in the sky as they approached the skinwalkers, and then the scent of them washed over the three vampires. They immediately stilled and waited for their past enemies to make themselves known. Slowly, the skinwalkers revealed themselves from out of the thick undergrowth of the forest floor. They were led by a sleek golden cat with piercing green eyes, who was followed closely by a larger dark brown cat with hazel eyes.

The golden feline stared at Castiel for what seemed an age before he let out a low purr and suddenly shifted into a man. A beautiful man with golden skin and hair, his face was strong with a short nose, large green eyes and full, defined lips. His stance was that of controlled grace, that of a creature whose humanity and animal core lived in delicate balance.

Castiel could not help but let his gaze drift lower. The golden skinwalker was completely naked, as was to be expected. His body looked as if it had been sculpted out of some precious golden stone. His shoulders rippled with muscle, his arms were well defined, and his moulded pectorals led into a long torso with tight abdominal muscles. His waist was slim and deep lines of muscle flowed in a v to his genitals, which were nestled between lithe powerful thighs. Castiel could feel his mouth go dry and his cock harden at the beauty before him. He knew that this gorgeous creature would probably smell his pungent arousal, and he hoped the skinwalker returned his feelings.

The dark brown cat beside the leader also shifted into human form, and despite the golden skinwalker being quite tall, this man towered over him. Castiel sensed Samandriel tense beside him and he gazed curiously at his younger brother. Samandriel's mouth was partially open, and Castiel could surmise that his brother emotions were a mix of fear, shock and deep arousal. He looked at the very tall skinwalker, and saw that he was regarding Samandriel with noticeable desire.

An older skinwalker approached Michel and shook his hand, before he said, "It's good to see you again, Michel. It seems that we can finally have our leaders join and make our unlikely alliance permanent."

Michel nodded, "It is good to see you, Robert. I agree. This is a joyous occasion indeed."

Robert approached Castiel, "It's good to meet you. I'm Bobby, Dean and Sam's advisor and right hand man."

Castiel smiled, "It is good to meet you, Bobby. This is my brother Samandriel."

Samandriel also smiled, his pale skin slightly flushed from the tall skinwalker's unwavering regard.

"I think it would be prudent for us to commence with the introductions," Michel smoothly interjected.

Bobby nodded and walked over to the skinwalkers' leader, "This is Dean Winchester, the leader of our tribe, and this is his brother, Samuel, who we call Sam."

Dean and Sam inclined their heads and returned to their catlike stance, neither of them speaking.

Michel motioned to Castiel and Samandriel, "As I am sure you have deduced, this is Castiel Novak, the leader of our people, and our younger brother, Samandriel."

Castiel and Samandriel also inclined their heads, but Castiel did not remain silent, "We are pleased to finally meet you, Dean and Sam. We hope that you do not find us wanting in any way."

From the look of pure possessive want on Sam's face, Castiel decided that he definitely did not find Samandriel to be lacking in any regard. When he looked at Dean, however, he could not discern any kind of emotion from his lovely face. His expression was like a mask, and his green eyes burned with an enigmatic light that both confused and aroused Castiel.

"Let us proceed to the signing of the treaty," suggested Bobby.

Castiel and Dean both nodded before the entire party turned and began the trek into the heart of the skinwalkers' territory.

* * *

Dean could not help but surreptitiously gaze at his intended as they neared Dean's home. From the moment he had seen Castiel, he had hoped that he was the one who would belong to him. It was quite obvious that Sam wanted the golden haired child beside Castiel, who gazed at Sam from under his lashes and fidgeted under Sam's intense stare.

Dean observed the way Castiel moved with effortless grace, his body the picture of perfect posture. He was every inch the noble leader, with his velvet coat and unwavering azure eyes, which seemed to glow against his porcelain complexion. The only thing which Dean found to be out of place with this controlled demeanour, was Castiel's unruly mop of raven hair. It looked as if he had restlessly run his fingers through it, or as if someone else had. Dean's inner feline instantly hissed with the thought of someone else giving and taking pleasure from this blue eyed prince. He was Dean's now, and Dean meant to keep him.


End file.
